


Been Here Before [Never Felt This Sure]

by the_afterlight



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Community: lgbtfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-28
Updated: 2010-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_afterlight/pseuds/the_afterlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, we're not in England anymore, Peter, and if my own brother thinks he could be falling in love with another man, I'm not going to assume the worst of it."</p><p>Four conversations with three people, and how Peter goes from new awareness to new acceptance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Been Here Before [Never Felt This Sure]

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 723. Chronicles of Narnia, Peter: Realizing he's gay and not knowing how to come out/talk about it with Aslan. Of course, Aslan rarely needs to be told what's going on, but waits patiently for Peter to find his way to accept himself all the same.
> 
> Much thanks to custardpringle for the beta! Title from the song End It On This, by No Doubt. (... I tend to title by taking the first song (with lyrics) to come up on iTunes DJ. Somehow it usually seems to work out, more or less. :D )

When he was crowned, High King Peter was fourteen years old, and at once both a very young and a very old fourteen. Old, of course, for he had faced battle, and led an army, and stood alongside as Aslan, not -- and never -- a tame lion, ended the Hundred Years Winter and brought spring once again. Young, on the other hand, for his inexperience in other aspects of his life, for while Peter had seen, and done, many things, he had yet to mature in the ways that young men do.

When he turned fifteen years of age, High King Peter had sat on the throne of Narnia for eight months, and already he was tired of the suitors come clamoring for his young sisters' hands.

"Who is it this time?" Peter asked, leaning over to whisper in Susan's ear. They sat side-by-side at the head table in Cair Paravel's middling-grand ballroom on the third day of Narnia's millenial celebrations, having elected to save the grandest ballroom for the eighth and final day of the festival. "And where's he from?"

Susan looked out onto the dance-floor, where their sister Lucy was throwing faces at them over the shoulder of her current suitor, a man a few years Peter's elder (which, Peter had to privately remind himself, was infinitely preferable to the previous suitor, a man a fair few years their mother's elder). "Archenland, of course. Fifth son of Lord What's-His-Name, Duke of Wherever. Honestly, Peter, at this point I've rather lost count of them all. They've been showing up for the last month and a half, _long_ before the festival started. Where do their mothers _find_ them?"

For that was the issue: most of the suitors, and almost all of the potential brides for Peter and their brother Edmund, were being brought to court by mothers, well-meaning and otherwise, seeking a kingly or queenly partnership -- and with two kings and two queens, that was double the chances for each suitor to snag one of the royal Pevensies, just as if it were a carnival game for which they came, and not a ceremony and festival commemorating the birth of Narnia a thousand years before. This left Susan and Lucy scurrying for the bastions of female superiority whenever possible: Susan's solarium, and Lucy's garden, and surreptitiously assisting Mrs. Beaver in the kitchens whenever they could escape. Peter and Edmund, on the other hand, had little such recourse, for no matter where they went, save their private chambers, were places where they could be watched, and where they could be watched, they could be courted. Edmund, to Peter's chagrin, had actually turned it into something of a game, doing his best to attract as many different unmarried daughters around him as possible at any given time and letting them loose on each other, but Peter himself wanted nothing so much as to go off with the guard for a fortnight on patrol and escape everything.

Really, he told himself, he'd rather be up dancing with fifth son What's-His-Name than avoiding stepping on the feet of any of the women. At least What's-His-Name, from the callouses on his fingers, knew how to use a sword.

"I need some air," Peter told Susan. "Can you cover for me for a few minutes?"

Susan nodded and waved him off. "We can all survive without you for at least that long," she assured him, giving him a sly half-smile. "And if any of the bouncing beauties ask, I'll tell them you're off... doing something manly. Perhaps more sword-work, in the salle."

Peter grinned and, as he got up, stepped in close enough to give Susan a brief hug; it wasn't the kingliest of actions, but he was, before that, Susan's brother. "Thank you," he said as he pulled away. "I won't be long."

The lower garden was usually empty at night, a fact of which Peter took shameless advantage as he escaped the ballroom. The late summer evening air was cool, but not so cool that Peter wished for a jacket; the slight breeze felt rather nice against his bared forearms, and he wished for a moment he could strip off his doublet, shirt, and undershirt completely. Glancing around, Peter realised that he probably actually could. The garden was as empty as he'd expected, and there'd be no one to see.

"Nice to see someone had the same idea I did."

Except, Peter thought, whirling around, him.

"Uh, hello," Peter said, smiling softly. "The party a bit too much for you?"

The man opposite him -- barely more than a boy, Peter realised, his own age, perhaps a year younger or older -- nodded, shrugging. "I got tired of seeing my elder brother attempt to woo Queen Lucy," he said, softly. He stepped a little further down the garden path, his eyes widening as he recognised Peter. "I, uh. I hope you don't mind me taking liberties, your majesty. I didn't realise 'twas you."

Peter just smiled at the boy. "It's all right," he said. "I think Lucy is enjoying your brother's attempts about as much as you enjoyed watching." The Archenlandish noble laughed softly and nodded.

"M'name's Denn, m'lord." The young noble offered a bow to Peter, who shook his hand and waved it off.

"No need for that," he implored, laughing a bit. "Are you enjoying your time in Narnia, Denn? Other than watching your brother make a fool of himself with my sister, that is." Peter moved over to a nearby bench sat alongside the path, waving Denn over to join him. Denn nodded enthusiastically before sitting down.

"It's a beautiful country!" Denn explained. "And everyone's been so welcoming while we've been here. Aric's only really here to..." He flushed, but continued, "... to try to wed Lucy, or Susan if Lucy won't have him, but really I'm just here to get me out from underfoot back home. Seventh sons don't tend to..." Denn's flush deepened. "I'm sorry, m'lord. People are always telling me that I go on too much."

Peter laughed, leaning back and grinning up at the stars above. "It's all right, Denn. It's nice to talk to someone who's not saying 'your majesty' every three words. What were you saying about seventh sons?"

Denn smiled a little tentatively at Peter before saying, "Well, we've not much expected of us, is all. First sons inherit, second sons go into the army, third sons philosophy... Fourth and fifth are expected to marry well, sixth sons to go into seclusion, and seventh... No one much cares what the seventh sons do as long as it's nowhere near the rest of the family." Denn's blush deepened a little further. "But surely you know all that already, sire."

"We do things a little differently where I come from," Peter explained, shaking his head. "And I'm still learning a lot about what Narnia's like, and the rest of this world." He smiled a little wider. "And if you're looking for something to do, I'm quite certain there's a position here for a seventh son. Have you any skill at arms?"

"Some!" Denn confirmed enthusiastically. "And I'm still training, of course. My father's armsmaster says that I'm a natural with a short sword."

"There you go, then." Peter leaned over to give Denn a light punch at his shoulder. "If you want, and your father doesn't mind, I'm sure we can you a place here. Officer of the Guard, perhaps?"

Denn's eyes lit up and he _giggled_; Peter felt that he should likely find it disturbing, coming as it did from a young man his own age, but there was something about the sound that he liked. "Thank you, sire!" Denn exclaimed, before leaning over to brush his lips against Peter's. "Thank you so much! I'll talk to my father, he's due here in tomorrow for the rest of the festival, I'm sure he'll let me stay!" Before Peter could react further, Denn fair bounced out of the garden and back into the castle proper, leaving Peter to sit and wonder what just happened. Unconsciously, Peter's hand came up, his fingers brushing against his lips where Denn had just kissed him.

* * *

"Susan?"

It was late the next morning, and while Peter had been up a few hours already -- even during festival time, he'd kept his practice of training in the mornings with the guardsmen -- he'd felt it prudent, given the lateness of the feast the night before, to allow Susan some extra time to make herself presentable for the day. So, after his practice, he'd gone back to his own quarters to bathe and dress for the day, only then going across the hall to knock on his sister's door.

There was a call of, "Coming!" from the other side of the door, and a few moments later Susan was opening it wide to let Peter into her sitting room. "Peter! I'd not thought to see you until luncheon. Is something the matter?"

Peter closed the door softly but firmly behind him and leaned back against it. "If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret?" he asked.

Just because he'd spend the morning training with the guards didn't mean he hadn't been thinking about something else entirely.

Susan, for her part, looked affronted. "Of course I can keep a secret. What do you take me for, Edmund?"

"No, it's just..." Peter hesitated, worrying at his lip. It was a distinctly unkinglike habit, and one he'd thought he'd broken long before, but with the thoughts running through his head since the previous night he'd found himself doing it again. "Susan, do you... I mean, things are different here than home, right?"

That prompted a distinctly unladylike snort from Susan. "You honestly did _not_ just ask me that."

"Rhetorical question." But Peter hesitated again, and when he didn't speak again, Susan frowned, worried, at him.

"Is everything all right, Peter? If something's the matter... Did something happen at the feast last night?"

Peter nodded slowly. "I met someone, actually, out in the garden. The younger brother, actually, of one of Lucy's suitors. He..." Susan nodded encouragingly, waving him on a little. "Well, he kissed me. And I think I liked it."

There was another pause while Peter waited for Susan to respond. "Yes, and...?" she said, after a moment. "What about it?"

"I did say that _he_ kissed me, right?" Peter asked, confused. "As in, a guy. And I liked it? Isn't that... I mean, it's wrong, isn't it?"

Susan shrugged, moving over to her sideboard to pour them each a glass of water from the waiting pitcher. "Back in England, I would have said yes and not thought twice about it," she said, after handing one glass to Peter. "But this is... Well, we're not in England anymore, Peter, and if my own brother thinks he could be falling in love with another man, I'm not going to assume the worst of it."

Peter blanched, almost dropping his water. "I didn't say anything about love!" he exclaimed. "I just. One kiss, that's all."

"And would you like there to be another?" Susan asked pointedly. Peter's pale skin quickly flushed, giving Susan all the answer she needed. "Maybe you're not falling in love," she continued, "but you're acting more interested in this one kiss than I've seen you with any of the bouncing beauties, so I'd consider the possibility, that's all." Susan hesitated now herself, taking a sip of her water. "Peter, I don't pretend to know everything." She paused. "Not anymore, at least. But my point is that maybe this _is_ wrong, in some way, but even if it is, you're still my brother and I love you."

"Thanks, Su," Peter said, getting up. "I... Thanks. I'll see you later?"

Susan got up as well, coming over to give Peter a hug. "At luncheon," she said. "Don't forget, we're eating a half-hour early today." She squeezed a little tighter, just for a moment, as Peter returned the hug. "You should have just enough time for a walk out in the woods."

Peter nodded before pulling away. "Thanks," he repeated. "I'll be sure not to get too dirty."

"You'd better not," Susan said, laughing as she led Peter to the door. "You won't have time to change."

* * *

If asked later, Peter couldn't have said exactly when Aslan started walking beside him. Although it was ten or fifteen minutes before Peter _noticed_ him, he could have sworn, later, that he felt the presence nearby even before he stepped into the woods. Even then, Peter and Aslan walked alongside each other out into the woods for quite some time before Peter finally spoke. "I'm afraid," he said, simply, as he stopped beside a rushing stream. Aslan, rather than respond, lay down beside Peter, getting comfortable at the streamside. Peter, in turn, leaned back against a tree, trying to relax. "I mean," Peter continued, "I don't know what people will think. I don't know what _I_ think. It's... It's wrong, isn't it?"

Aslan chuffed softly. "It might help," he pointed out, "if you were to tell me what 'it' is."

Peter nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "I... Someone kissed me last night. A boy, my age. And I... I want to do it again, with him."

"Ah, yes," Aslan said. "And you worry that, as you've been taught, this is wrong. A sin."

"Well, isn't it?" Peter asked, his voice tight. "Susan didn't seem worried, but I can't... I know what went on back at school, with some of the other boys, but I never did that, and none of it was ever... I mean, if anyone ever thought that you _liked_ other boys, it-" Peter cut himself off, unable to put his thoughts in order.

Aslan turned his head toward Peter, his eyes kind. "Love is never sinful," he said. "People may fear and deride what they do not understand, but what truly matters is how we treat one another. To love another is to share in the love of the universe, no matter how or with whom we express that love."

Peter laughed, self-deridingly. "Tell that to the people back home," he said, looking away.

"Times change, young Peter, and people change with them." Aslan got to his feet and moved over right beside Peter. "Come. You should return to the castle. But remember, Peter: never be afraid of love, not that of a brother, a sister, a friend, or a partner. Love should be cherished wherever, and with whomever, it is found."

Nodding, Peter stood up straight and began to walk back to Cair Paravel, Aslan walking beside him once more. "Thanks, Aslan," he said, one hand coming out to rest against Aslan's shoulder as they walked. Peter thought of Denn's smile when he offered him the position with the Guard, and couldn't help but smile himself. "I don't think I'm afraid anymore."


End file.
